<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>pictures of you smiling (in times that i just couldn't be around) by sunbeamruins</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22556119">pictures of you smiling (in times that i just couldn't be around)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunbeamruins/pseuds/sunbeamruins'>sunbeamruins</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Broadchurch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5 Things, Alec Hardy Gets A Hug, Alec Hardy Needs A Hug, Alec Hardy and His Broken Heart, Angst, Gen, Pre-Canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 17:30:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,527</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22556119</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunbeamruins/pseuds/sunbeamruins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Five photos of Daisy received by Alec Hardy while she was still refusing to talk to him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alec Hardy/Tess Henchard (past)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>pictures of you smiling (in times that i just couldn't be around)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>1.</p><p> </p><p>The concierge stopped Alec on his way back to his room, handing him an envelope. It had been posted to his hotel room, address written in familiar looping handwriting. He had no idea why Tess would send him a letter, as most of their recent contact had been done through their solicitors. </p><p> </p><p>Tucking it into his inner jacket pocket, he jabbed at the up button for the lift. He paced, mind churning with the possibilities. While he'd usually be halfway back to his room by now, his gp's latest warning sat annoyingly central in his mind. No unnecessary exertion or stress, which meant waiting for the lift that made the tortoise look like the hare. </p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t like there was much he could do to exert himself, suspended from the force pending review as he was. There was, on the other hand, plenty of things to stress out over, review included. </p><p> </p><p>The soft ding from the arriving lift pulled him from his thoughts and back to the present. Finally stepping in, he brought the letter back out. Turning it over in his hands, the contents shifted, alerting him that it wasn't a simple letter. </p><p> </p><p>A stiff nod to the additional passenger stepping on the next floor up had him pause his makeshift investigation until he arrived at his room. </p><p> </p><p>Turning the key in the lock, he made his way into the lonely room he’d been living in for the past few weeks. With his coat tossed across the foot of the bed, he sprawled out across the top, one leg folded under him as he lay propped up against the headboard among the pillows. </p><p> </p><p>Running his finger under the seal, he opened the mysterious letter. Out fluttered two small slips of paper. One was a wallet-sized cutout of Daisy’s newest school picture, the other a strip of paper only a couple centimeters high, with just two lines of writing. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Figured you’d want a copy of this </em>
</p><p>
  <em> -Tess x </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He grabbed the cutout, the other hand scrabbling across the bedside table searching for his glasses. Putting them on, he brought the tiny picture close to his face. He broke out into a wide grin, soaking in Daisy’s image. </p><p> </p><p>Oh, she’d hate it. </p><p> </p><p>He could almost hear her complaining about how fake her smile looked, and how they really didn’t need to put the bigger copy on the mantle because being forced to look at that photo everyday would be cruel and unusual punishment. </p><p> </p><p>The smile slipped from his face as he realized he’d never get to see this photo proudly displayed in the living room. The tiny one in his hand was the only one he’d get.</p><p> </p><p>The package he and Tess had decided on only came with one large copy, and enough wallet-sized to send to the grandparents along with one each for the two of them. What he’d give to be back then, arguing over an extra twenty quid for school photos, he didn’t know.</p><p> </p><p>He brought the picture to his lips, giving Daisy a kiss on the forehead the only way he could now, before tucking it safely into the breast pocket of his suit. Pippa may have claimed the space in his wallet, but this way Daisy would always be close to his heart, faulty as it may be.</p><p> </p><p>It lived there for years, corners creased and faded around the edges from handling, until he unfortunately got stuck in a rainstorm and it was damaged beyond repair. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>2.</p><p> </p><p>If there was one thing Daisy had inherited from Alec, it was his stubborn streak. Months had passed and she still refused to talk to him. Tess claimed she had broached the subject a few times, but Daisy wouldn’t budge on her decision. Alec knew better than to try and force her to talk to him, he already feared that their relationship was damaged beyond repair. </p><p> </p><p>But he couldn’t just let her birthday pass unacknowledged. </p><p> </p><p>He had given her a call that had unsurprisingly gone straight to voicemail. The fact that it wasn’t surprising didn’t make it hurt any less. He tried to keep the quiver out of his voice as he wished her the best and reminded her that he loved her. </p><p> </p><p>The next day there was an email from Tess sitting at the top of his inbox. </p><p> </p><p>There was the usual rushed apology for Daisy's behavior and questions about his health asked only for politeness' sake. </p><p> </p><p>It was the attachment that caught his attention. The little paperclip on the side of the subject line hadn’t prepared him for what was inside. </p><p> </p><p>It was a candid photo of Daisy and her friends, cake in hand and chatting. A “Happy Birthday” banner was strung up in the background, a few sad balloons and streamers the only other decoration. She was cheerfully oblivious of the camera, gesticulating with a forkful of cake, a bit of frosting smudged on her cheek. </p><p> </p><p>It was so painfully normal. </p><p> </p><p>He learned it was possible to yearn so hard it almost felt like a physical tug. He knew it had already happened yesterday, but that only worsened ache in his gut.</p><p> </p><p>He sat frozen in front of his laptop, staring at the photo for hours until his vision became blurry. He couldn’t tell if it was because of the screen or the wetness he had blinked away. </p><p> </p><p>Wiping his eyes, he quickly set it as his desktop background before going to bed.</p><p> </p><p>He lasted a week, greeted by it and the wave of pain it brought every morning. By the time he came to Broadchurch it was back to the default.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>3. + 4.</p><p> </p><p>Tess kept sending the occasional update on Daisy, but not nearly often enough. He lived for them, each one like a fresh burst of oxygen in his lungs. While being told how she was doing in school was great and all, it was just words on a screen. There was the ever present sense of detachment from a life led without him. </p><p> </p><p>As much as he longed to know every detail of her life, a part of him felt he had no right to it. If he couldn’t give other parents justice for their dead daughter, why should he get to see his daughter alive and well? It could’ve just as easily been her.</p><p> </p><p>There wasn’t much for him to do to occupy his days, still stuck in an odd transitional phase. His review had come back and he was cleared of all wrongdoing, but he knew he couldn’t stay in Sandbrook. He spent his time filing transfer applications and going over the case files again and again, searching for any details he may have missed the last however many times before. There was also Claire to contend with. He had sequestered her away in another nearby hotel for now. The sooner he could move the both of them away the better.</p><p> </p><p>He was waiting for a cab, a copy of the local paper tucked under his arm as his usual check-up present. The drive was short, less than ten minutes and rarely longer due to traffic. He didn’t know what possessed him to leaf through the paper that day, skimming over the usual small town news. It was two pages from the back in the sports section where he struck gold. </p><p> </p><p>Well, technically bronze.</p><p> </p><p>Daisy’s local swim club had apparently gotten third in the county championships. There was a small column dedicated to them, headed by a tiny image of the whole team around their trophy. He counted faces, trying to spot her where marked by the caption. It was only the driver clearing his throat that broke the spell and had him stepping out onto the pavement. </p><p> </p><p>He quickly checked his phone to see if he had missed any messages or emails from Tess about this. When there was nothing there, he called Tess for the first time since seeing her in court. </p><p> </p><p>Pacing in front of the other hotel's entrance, he had it out with Tess. She didn’t apologize for not telling him but she agreed to send him the pictures she had taken, which was enough.</p><p> </p><p>Aborting the decision to see Claire, he chose to walk back to his hotel, heart be damned. The walk would help calm him down. He took the page with the news article, and dumped the rest of the paper in a bin he passed by. </p><p> </p><p>He should’ve been the one cheering on the sidelines. Whenever work allowed, he would be the one driving Daisy to her meets. It had always been their bonding activity. The fact that Tess had stood up and filled that role made him feel hollow, but it wasn’t as if he could’ve made it even if he was around. Just being near water these days was enough to make him nervous, let alone watching his daughter splash around in a pool after what he had seen.</p><p> </p><p>Checking his phone once he got back, he saw that Tess had actually come through with the pictures. There were two of them. The first was similar to the one from the paper, the whole team smiling around the trophy. This time Daisy had a genuine smile, surrounded by her friends all in their matching suits with towels either draped over their shoulders or tucked neatly around their waists.  The second photo had them all striking silly victory poses, kids doing their best impressions of Charles Atlas. </p><p> </p><p>As much as he would've loved to spend all day cataloguing and memorizing the changes in her features, the pool looming in the background of the images was already starting to make him feel woozy. It hadn't been as clear in the news clipping, and he knew it wasn't true, but his mind was convinced that every speck of a person dotting the background was Pippa. </p><p> </p><p>She had been so tiny in his arms, but so heavy. He closed his eyes and worked to steady this breathing, staving off the coming panic attack. </p><p> </p><p>He changed one dripping body in his mind to another. He instead summoned memories from when Daisy was younger, lifting her up and spinning her in a damp hug, her hair spraying droplets across the room. She’d emerged fresh from the changing rooms, and the smell of chlorine had been strong enough to burn in his nose. She'd been getting too heavy to easily lift and at the age where affection from dad was gross, but had indulged him anyway.  It never mattered how she did, he’d always been proud of her. Still was. </p><p> </p><p>Resigning himself to the fact that she wouldn’t pick up a call, he made do with a short congratulatory text. After a quick moment of contemplation, he indulged in his “soppy"-ness and texted her just how much he loved her and was proud. </p><p> </p><p>There was no response, but the little read receipt was enough for now. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>5.</p><p> </p><p>It had taken a while, but he had finally gotten a position as a DI in a new town. It was his fresh start, a chance to escape the ghosts and attempt to work off his failure in peace. Packing his bags took an unexpectedly short amount of time. A life packed away in a large rolling suitcase and a duffel bag. There were still things he had left behind in the house after all: the couch brought over from his flat from before he and Tess had moved together because it was softer, his mother’s silverware that he had held onto since her death, various trinkets and keepsakes from his youth in cardboard boxes hidden away in the attic. He had left in such a rush, and so much of his life had been entwined with hers that seemed wrong to move from the house. </p><p> </p><p>Sometimes he felt he wasn’t Alec Hardy, Alec Hardy was dead and he was only the pieces that remained. </p><p> </p><p>This collection of fragments still had twenty minutes until its taxi came, so who was knocking on the door? If he had to reassure Claire he’d send for her once he had set up a place for her one more time he’d scream. It would be a mental scream, but he would do it. </p><p> </p><p>It was Tess. They’d been tactfully avoiding each other ever since the divorce had gone through, communication relegated to the medium of email or phone call. She pushed past him and into the room while he was still processing her appearance. She stood awkwardly in the wide empty space between the door and the bed, running a critical eye across the generally bare room he had been living in the past month. </p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing here?” he said. Logic dictated that she’d be happy to have him gone, no longer having to glance over her shoulder for his presence when about town.</p><p> </p><p>“Can’t I say goodbye? I’m pretty sure that’s a thing people do.” She shifted her weight from foot to foot. She was still dressed in her work clothes, black pantsuit with one of her nicer blue blouses. The ring he had given her was conspicuously absent from her finger, as it had been throughout the proceedings. The lack of weight on his finger still left him unbalanced, but it was clearly no issue for her.  </p><p> </p><p>In her ringless hands was a small green rectangular package. She shoved it into his hands. “Daisy wanted you to have this.” </p><p> </p><p>She raised her eyebrows and gave little nod, indicating she wanted him to open it. It was light and stiff, and obviously a picture frame. He dug his nails into a corner and tore off the top half. The picture contained was from the last vacation the three of them had taken together, over to Portugal for the beaches on the girl’s request. It was one of the rare photos with all three of them, an unwitting fellow tourist roped into taking it. The three of them were huddled close together, smiles as sunny as the weather. </p><p> </p><p>“She didn’t want you to forget about us now that you’re moving away.” Tess had moved over to look at the picture over his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“We were happy,” Alec remarked, tracing a finger over the frame.</p><p> </p><p>“We were,” she said with a sad smile. Then she unexpectedly pulled him into a hug. “Take care of yourself, alright?”</p><p> </p><p>He only grunted in agreement, clutching her as tightly as he did the frame. But just like all the rest of the good things in his life, the hug ended. Tess gave him another sad smile over her shoulder as she exited his life for what may well be the last time. </p><p> </p><p>He carefully tucked the frame into the luggage case, padded by his clothes. He wouldn’t set it on his new desk, that would invite too many painful questions. But there would be a new hotel bedside table until he had a flat with a wall for it to live on. And if Daisy had sent it over… </p><p> </p><p>With the picture bouncing around in the luggage rolling behind him, Alec let the first seeds of hope take root in his damaged heart.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I may have had the title for this fic picked out long before I wrote it but that didn’t stop me from mentally referring to it as the “sad dad in semi-self-imposed exile thirsty for updates about his daughter’s life” fic. Also in the first draft daisy was dabbing in the fourth photo until research told me it wasn’t a meme yet, but i wanted you to know that was my first instinct for her. title taken from the wonderful song Dendron by The Hotelier</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>